Unique Congregations
by unchartedfate
Summary: A dead marine and a warehouse of forgeries found on a dock in Santa Barbra. Call in a dysfunctional team from Washington D.C, A psychic working for the police in California, and a Federal agent and his consultant from New York. What could go wrong?
1. Chapter 1

A/n: Hey! It's me again! So this is my next crossover ya'll! It's a combo of White color, Psych, and NCIS which just so happen to be three of my fav TV shows of all time X3 I've had this sitting around for a while but I felt like I didn't go into too much deal so I set it aside for a while. But heck, it's the first chapter, so just enjoy it will ya? Yeah, I don't have much to say about it right now…

Disclaimer: I, unfortunally, do not own the master pieces that are White collar, Psych and NCIs… sigh… I want to meet Micheal Wetherly….

_**Chapter 1: **_

The fading street lights flickered in the eternal darkness of the night. A soft ocean breeze blew across the abandoned dock. Frothy California waves sloshed rhythmically against the algae covered marina. A single white boat sat in the water, tied to the wooden dock and bobbing with each tiny roll of the sea. The dull thud of the crafts hull against the pier hung in the silence of the air, joining in with the symphony of sounds.

Two aging building squatted in front of the nearly empty docks, forming a single path way between them; illuminated by the dulling lights. The trees surrounding the secluded area were cast into shadows, and darkness seemed endless.

A single figure paced the pier anxiously, glancing between the buildings every few moments before stomping a foot in frustration and continuing to pace. He glanced down at his watch and huffed, glaring at the boat tied to the dock beside him. If the man he was told to deliver the crates to didn't show soon, he would be out of options. How else was he going to come up with the two million dollar ransom money by the end of the week? Someone had taken his wife, and it pained him to think that he would never see her again.

He got that feeling enough when he was on duty, he didn't it when he was on leave. He looked up as he heard footsteps come towards him in the darkness. The occasional flicker of a street light revealed a tall man dressed in a business suit headed toward him.

"You're late" The man on the pier snapped as he waited for the other to reach him.

"Fashionably so, sailor." the figure said smoothly as he stopped; glancing at the ship. "So you have it?"

"Of course, it's all on the boat."

"All of it?"

"Yes all of it. Now where's my money?"

The man chuckled and reached into the jacket of his suit. He shook his head slightly as he pulled out a pistol, cocking it as he pointed it at the sailor.

"Oh, I'm afraid our deal ends right here."

An earsplitting crack cut through the silence, followed by a dull thud of a body hitting wood. The man 'tsked' and stepped over the body and onto the boat. He ran his hands over the many crates crammed onto the vessel, a smile touching his lips as he moved. He lifted off one of the lids and gazed fondly down at the masterpiece staring back at him.

"Now won't this be exciting." He whispered to the bobbing sea. "Let's play, shall we?" Without another word the man beckoned with a single wave of his hand, waiting patiently as a dozen men seemed to materialize out of the shadows. "Load this on the truck, be careful not to leave any evidence."

Turning his back to the now frantically scurrying men, the man carefully stepped out of the boat and disappeared down the dark road.

xxXXxx

The small seaside office was silent as rays of sunlight peaked through the window. The workspace was cluttered with bizarre objects and random trinkets. The hum of the TV hung about the room, drowning out the drowsy snores of the work spaces two dozing occupants. The phone rang, and the duo was jerked out of their sleep.

One of said occupants rolled, startled onto the wooden floor. He gave a strangled yelp and pulled himself into a sitting position against the foot of the rooms couch. He sleepily reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell, putting the green cased phone to his ear.

"What's up chief?" he asked groggily.

"Spencer. I have a job for you, be down at the marina as soon as you can." Chief Karen Vicks voice replied.

"Alright. On it chief." He replied, hanging up. "Gus. Gus. Get up. C'mon buddy, we got a case." He slapped the leg of his sleeping partner. He got to his feet and ran a tanned hand through his short brown hair. Rubbing his chocolate brown eyes as he yawned; he readjusted his plaid button up shirt and turned his attention back to his still unaware companion. The pair had fallen asleep, sprawled on the offices couch; watching old movies until the late hours of the morning.

"A new case?" Gus finally mumbled, placing a dark skinned hand over his face.

"Yeah. The chief wants us to meet her at the marina, so get up." Shawn replied.

"You know, if this was any other day, I'd be trying to get you to get up." Burton Guster replied, sitting up.

"C'mon. We're already dressed lets go." Shawn urged, tossing his friend the keys and heading outside.

Burton Guster sighed and pushed himself to his feet. On his way out the door he grabbed his brown coat before locking the office behind him and following Shawn out to his car.

It only took about ten minutes for the tiny blue car to reach the marina. They pulled into the lot and the two companions leapt out and hurried to the line of yellow police tape in the distance.

"What do you think this is about?" Gus asked as they pushed their way through the gathered crowd.

"My guess is a body." Shawn replied cheekily.

"You know that's not what I meant."

"I don't know."

"Aren't you supposed to be psychic?" Detective Carlton Lassiter asked as the duo joined him on the dock. His dark brown hair parted neatly down the center and he regarded them with pale green eyes.

The new arrivals glanced briefly at the pale body of the dead marine sprawled on the dock as they stood next to the officer. A pool of blood formed around the man's head and his eyes were wide with shock and horror. Gus turned his head away as Shawn looked around for clues. Seeing only a slight shoe print next to the body and what looked like a hair being put into an evidence bag.

"Hey Lassie-face!" Shawn exclaimed, clapping a hand on the less- than- estatic man's shoulder.

"What exactly are you doing here Spencer?" the detective snapped, narrowing his eyes.

"The chief told us to meet her here." He replied. Carlton opened his mouth to retort, but froze as chief Vick walked toward them, the low heels of her shoes clicking on the dock. Her short blonde hair whipped around her head in the seaside breeze and her dark brown eyes flickered between the detectives before her.

"Mr. Spencer, Mr. Guster. Thank you for coming. I need to know anything you can tell us about this man, as soon as you can. Two outside agencies will be working with us on this case and I expect your full cooperation." She ordered, her voice crisp.

"Outside agencies ma'am?" Juliet O'hara asked as she walked up to the small group, her long blonde hair tucked neatly into a bun on top of her head.

"Apparently this marine was involved in something big. A government agency specializing in Naval crimes has been looking for him and will be sending out a team of agents. Regarding the paintings that were found, a FBI team will be coming out from New York. I want all of you on your best behavior, understand?" she snapped.

"Absolutely." They chorused.

"Good. Now get to work, they'll be here tomorrow." Without another word she turned and walked off, leaving the four others to stare after her. They exchanged nervous glances before they scurried around the crime, scanning for evidence.

xxXXxx

The White Collar office in New York, New York, was quiet. The few agents in the building were focused intently on their work; pouring over case files and making calls. Known criminal Neal Caffrey lounged at his desk, his deep blue eyes mercilessly scanning the papers in front of him. His dark brown hair was neat and wavy and his face was clean shaven. If Neal Caffrey was anything, he was not sloppy; in anything he did. His feet were propped up on the work space and a case file sat open on his lap. He sighed and slapped the folder back onto the desk before picking up another.

"Mortgage fraud too boring for you Caffrey?" Jones asked as he passed the ex- cons desk.

"I don't know what you're talking about." He replied with a cheeky smile.

"Right. Anyway, Peter wants to see you."

Neal nodded his thanks before getting to his feet; flipping his signature black fedora onto his head before making his way over to peter's office. The man's glass walled office was across the room and up a small set of stairs; the layout of the floor was now a familiar sight to the conman.

"Sit." The FBI agent ordered as his charge walked into the room. Neal sat in one of the chairs facing Agent Peter Burke's desk; leaning forward as he awaited an explanation.

"We got a call this morning on a very large art heist in Santa Barbra." Peter explained, setting a blue file in front of his partner.

"California? Why would we get a call from California?" Neal asked curiously. "Isn't there a White Collar unit there?" He picked up the file and leaned back in his chair as he flipped through it, glancing up at Peter with a raised eyebrow.

"well… yes. But…"

"But what?"

"But they don't have the… expertise… that we do. We need to know who is going to fence the remaining paintings and who forged the ones that we found."

"Oh, so they found paintings? It says here they found a dead marine…"

"Yes. They think he was selling someone else a portion of the paintings."

"When our murderer killed him, why didn't whoever they were selling the painting to take the rest?"

"The rest were locked in a nearby warehouse belonging to the dead marine."

"And they need us to go all the way to California to look at these paintings?"

"Yes."

"Can't someone there do it?"

"The people there aren't you."

"Oh, Peter, are you saying you need me?"

"Don't get full of yourself kid. Go pack a bag, we leave in two hours."

"Two hours? But-"

"No buts. Two hours. I'll pick you up at June's."

"Fine. Two hours." Neal flashed a dazzling smile and slipped out of the room, already dialing his phone as he reached the elevator.

"Mozzie." He greeted as his friend picked up the other line.

"Hey man." The tiny bald man replied.

"Listen, Mozz, Me and Peter have to go to California."

"California? You being ordered around by the Man?"

"You know I have to Mozz."

"'A desire to resist oppression is implanted in the nature of man.' Tacitus."

"Again with the fortune cookie commentary."

"My pleasure."

"Hey, do you think you can ask around if anyone knows about someone trying to fence forgeries in California."

"Is that why the Suit's going out there?"

"Yeah, Peter said that a marine was fencing them."

"A marine? I'll look. I'll call when I find something."

"Thanks Mozz, talk you to later."

Neal slipped the phone back in his pocket as the cab he'd hailed pulled up in front of Junes house. He stepped out and hurried up stairs to the room he was currently occupying. Although he wouldn't show it, he was apprehensive about working for another government agency. He trusted Peter, and he worked well with Jones and Diana, but he was still a criminal. The last time he'd had to work for someone other than Peter, he'd been kidnapped, tazed, and held at gun point.

Two hours later, Peter pulled up in front of the elegant sprawling house and cut the engine, waiting patiently as his criminal partner loaded his suitcase in the back and got into the passenger seat. He flashed a toothy smile, his blue eyes bright. He adjusted his designer suit and leaned comfortably back in his seat.

"When we reach the airport, you're going to have to wear handcuffs." Peter explained as he restarted the car and set off down the road. Caffreys smile faltered as he looked at his partner.

"Isn't the anklet enough?" he asked.

"It's protocol Neal."

"But the handcuffs?"

"Don't want you to steal anything,"

"Your distrust is flattering Peter." Neal replied sarcastically, messing with the buttons on the cars dashboard.

Peter just smiled, choosing to ignore his friends typical behavior. He would have preferred to avoid using handcuffs on the kid but Hughes had assured him that that was what they had to do to get the ex-con on the plane. Otherwise, he was actually feeling good about their new assignment. They would meet Jones and Diana at the airport, and as long as Neal could keep himself out of trouble they could be back to New York in no time. As soon as they solved the case the sooner he could return to his dinners and lunches with El and Satchmo.

xxXXxx

The Bullpen of NCIS headquarters in Washington D.C. was a bustle of activity. An Israeli woman with long curly hair scribbled furiously on a pile of papers in front of her. A large duffle bag sat on the floor by her feet, much like those at near the desks of her coworkers. In the desk opposite her, a man with short brown hair and emerald green eyes typed hurriedly at his computer, occasionally picking up the phone as it rang. In the other occupied desk a tawny haired man also typed away at his keyboarded, furiously clicking his mouse and glancing nervously at the elevator doors across the office.

All three NCIS special agents froze as the familiar ding of the elevator rang out.

"Boss!" "Gibbs!" They all exclaimed as the grey haired man strode towards them, steaming coffee in hand. A suitcase was slung over one shoulder as his blue eyes shifted suspiciously between the members of his team.

"Dinozzo, you file your reports yet?" Leroy Jethro Gibbs asked as he reached his desk and looked over at the senior field agent.

"Almost, Boss. I'm on it." Very special agent Anthony Dinozzo replied without looking up from his computer. The sleeves of his dark blue stripped shirt were rolled up to his elbows and the collar sat haphazardly around his neck.

"David?" Gibbs asked, turning to the single woman in the team, seated across from Dinozzo.

"I am now Gibbs." Ziva replied, laying down her pen. She tugged absently at the fabric of her light green blouse, adjusting gun holstered at her hip.

"Mcgee?"

The other male, Tim, gave one finalized click of his mouse and looked up at the lead agent. "All finished boss."

"Good. Dinozzo, ya done yet?"

"I am now boss." The agent replied hurriedly as he looked up.

Gibbs gave the members of his team an appraising look before grabbing his chair and dragging it to the center of the bullpen.

"Campfire." He ordered. Ziva, Tony, and Tim pulled themselves and their chairs to join their boss in the center of the squad room to join their boss in a small circle. "I already told you all that we're working a case in California. I want the three of you to be on your best behavior, ya got that?"

"Of course boss."

"Absolutely."

"As always Gibbs." The agents replied, their voices overlapping one another.

"Good. We're investigating the death of a Petty Officer Jean Lyndon. He was found murdered on a Santa Barbra dock this morning at 0500. The Petty Officer went missing over a week ago." Gibbs explained.

"And why are we going all the way to California? I mean don't they have people for this?" Tony asked.

"Because Dinozzo; he's the main suspect in our case. The Santa Barbra police replied to the BOLO we sent out. Apparently he's involved in something much bigger."

"So I take it we will be working with the local authorities?" Ziva asked, leaning back in her chair.

"Yes, and I want all of you to behave, understand?" Gibbs asked, looking over the three agents. Each of them nodded or a nod of the head before Gibbs pushed himself to his feet once again. "Alright; Mcgee, go get Abby. The rest of you, gas the truck and get your things in the back, we have a plane to catch."


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these fabulous shows. Though I really wish I worked at USA network… I mean seriously! (Their new show suits? LOVE IT!)

xxXXxx

The day after the body of one Petty Officer Jean Lyndon was found on the docks of Santa Barbra, the local PD was frantic. Detectives scurried around the office, logging evidence and interrogating suspects. But despite their efforts, their case was going nowhere. They knew very little about their dead navy officer, other than he was scheduled for departure to Iraq in four months and he was married to a woman in Washington D.C.

Chief Karen Vick paced her office nervously as she glance constantly at the clock on the wall. The teams from various agencies were supposed to be in her office in a half hour, and she was worried about her department's contribution. The crime investigators were supposed to be some of the best, and the FBI division had some sort of outside consultant.

She took a deep breath and strode to the double doors of her private office. Leaning out into the busy hallway she shouted, "Lassiter, Spencer, O'Hara, Guster! Get in here please."

As she made her way back to the other side of her desk and back into her chair, the four she had called hurried towards her closed office.

"I'm telling you Lassie, you need to lighten up. The spirits are telling me that-" Shawn berated his less than amused co-worker as the group walked through the door.

"Mr. Spencer." Chief Vick interrupted before the psychic could continue. He gave a small huff before plopping himself down in one of the chairs opposite her desk. "Please tell me that you guys have found something."

"You can't rush these things chief. The spirits are only so willing. I need to feel things, you know this." Shawn replied.

"Well then get a move on it Spencer. But wait until the federal agents get here first. Carlton, what do you have?"

"We're working on it Chief. We're bringing over the paintings we found on the scene and we've checked the sight for fingerprints. We're currently tracking down all the owners of the boats at the marina." Lassiter reported confidently.

"Good. Now as soon as they get here, fill them in on everything, but this is our investigation, so let's keep it that way."

xxXXxx

Neal Caffrey held his cuffed his hands in front of him confidently as he and the other members of the White Collar unit made their way through the airport. Jones and Diana walked at each of his sides as Peter led the way, attracting curious glances from around them, Neal groaned inwardly, he hated being paraded through such a public place in hand cuffs. The only person he actually trusted was Peter, feeling the scrutinizing gazes of a thousand different people wasn't his idea of comfortable.

"You're fine Neal; we can take the cuffs off soon." Diana comforted.

Her words slightly surprised Neal; usually she would have said something sarcastic or teasing. But she must have seen how uncomfortable he looked, and he mentally steeled his mask. He rarely showed other people how he actually felt; it was part of being a conman. He used both hands to adjust the fedora on his head and looked straight forward, a slight smirk touching his lips.

The air was humid and sticky, making the New Yorkers slightly uncomfortable. They were used to the windy and cold weather of New York, not the balmy sea side breezes. As they reached the pick- up zone of the airport, a black car pulled in front of them, the window rolling down to reveal a tall man in a police uniform.

"Agent Peter Burke?" the man asked.

"That would be me." Peter replied, stepping over to the window.

"I'm here to pick you all up." The man said, before catching sight of Neal. He cleared his throat nervously, "I'm sorry sir... did you arrest someone?"

Peter's expression faltered and he turned to look at Neal who gave him a wide toothy smile, but offered no explanation.

"This is my consultant, Neal Caffrey." Peter explained to the nervous officer before handing his bag to Jones who was loading their luggage into the car's trunk. Peter climbed into the passenger while Neal sat between Jones and Diana in the back, his hands still cuffed on his lap.

"Is...Is there a reason he's hand cuffed sir?" the officer asked as they peeled away from the curb and onto the main road.

"It's so he doesn't steal anything." Peter said, ending the conversation and earning a glare from Neal.

"What do you know Neal, a federal agency who doesn't know who you are." Diana added quietly.

"I never made it over to California." He replied with another toothy grin.

She harrumphed and turned to look out the window, leaving a heavy silence to hang in the air as they drove toward the PD. Neal fiddled absently with his shackles, earning a slap on the arm and a glare from both Jones and Diana simultaneously. He smiled sheepishly and stopped, choosing to look out the window at the speeding trees.

In a matter of minutes, the shuffling cop led the tired group of four into the PD. Neal felt a sensation of nostalgia as he was led, still cuffed, through the building. The entire building went silent as the small group made their way to the chief's office. Neal was no stranger to the sensation of watching eyes, taking into account the multiple times he'd been led off in cuffs. He checked his impenetrable mask, his flawless facade. His charming, witty smile and disarming disposition; he practically radiated confidence and casualness. All eyes were on him as they stopped in front of the door and Peter caught his attention. The older man looked down on him with a scrutinizing gaze.

"No tricks Caffrey. I don't want trouble." He said pointedly, his eyes boring into the deep blue of his partners. Neal smiled disarmingly and held up his hands in mock surrender.

"I would never Peter. When have I ever?" he asked innocently.

"No. No. You do it all the time. We aren't in New York this time. We do absolutely everything by the law here. Do you understand?"

"You still don't trust me. I promise."

Peter gave him one last look before turning and walking into the chief's office, followed by a grinning Neal and an amused Jones and Diana.

"At least Mozzie isn't here boss." Diana added.

Neal's smile sank slightly as he looked at her, but she just smile innocently back.

"You must be Agent Peter Burke." A woman's voice greeted as they walked into the office space. Her voice was firm and commanding, instantly suggesting she knew what she wanted and just how to get it. Those were never good people for conmen to associate themselves with. The last one had almost gotten him killed when she'd used him as bait.

"Nice to meet you. You must be Chief Karen Vick?" Peter asked as the two shook hands.

Four other people from the SBPD sat in the office; looking over the White Collar agents with curiosity, Neal attracting the most attention.

"Yes. This is head detective Carlton Lassiter, Detective Juliet O'Hara, and our psychic detectives Mr. Shawn Spencer and Mr. Burton Guster." The chief introduced as she stood; pointing to each in turn.

"Pleasure to meet you. This is Agent Diana Berrigan, Agent Clinton Jones, and my… consultant, Neal Caffrey." Peter introduced, also pointing to each of his companions.

"Neal Caffrey? _The_ Neal Caffrey?" Carlton asked, astonished.

"You know him detective?" Chief Vick asked.

"Of course. I read all about you when I was looking for Despereaux. Art forgeries, bond forgeries… everything. You were uncatchable." Carlton explained, much to the displeasure of the white collar team.

"Oh no, no. Don't encourage him." Peter pleaded, watching the grin on Neal face grow wider.

"Alleged art forger." Neal corrected.

"You avoided the cops for years. No one could catch you." Carlton continued.

"Yes, and I've caught him twice and he's doing more time for it." Peter confirmed.

"Woah, woah! I'm getting something." Shawn exclaimed, leaping to his feet. He turned and pointed to Neal, putting the other hand to his temple. "You paint, and own a dog; possibly a shitzu."

"It's not mine and it's a pug." Neal replied, an amused smirk touching his lips. "But, I do paint."

Shawn grinned victoriously, having noticed the small bits of paint below the conman's fingernails and a spot of dog fur on his pressed suit. Something about the criminal gave him a good feeling; he suspected they were going to get along great. The way he smiled and talked to others, it almost reminded him of himself. Finally, he found someone else who wasn't afraid to bend the rules.

xxXXxx

Back at the Santa Barbra airport, the members of the NCIS were pushing their way through the crowded terminals to the outside. Each member of the small team kept their heads high and a pistol on their hips. Well trained eyes scanned the crowded building, for any suspicious activity, even if it wasn't necessary.

"Long flight zee-vah?" Tony asked as he slung his single duffle bag over his shoulder and fell into step with his partner.

"Only because I sat next to you Tony." She replied teasingly, earning an immature grin from her coworker.

"What about you Probie?" Tony asked, throwing an arm around the shoulders of the other team member, who stared back suspiciously.

"Fine… Tony." Tim answered skeptically.

"I thought it was great." A girl added, ducking under Tony's shoulder so she stood between the two men with the senior agents arm around her shoulder. Her black pig tails bobbed as she grinned at the other agents, the thick heels of her combat boots clicking against the floor as they walked through the crowded terminal.

"Of course it was Abby." McGee replied with a slight smile.

"Of course you did Abigail; I daresay first class would be much more enjoyable." An elderly man commented as he too fell into step with the small team. The others laughed and smiled, not even noticing as their leader froze in place ahead of them.

In fact none of them noticed until McGee ran into his back unintentionally, his eyes wide with fear

"So-sorry sir… I just… and then…I'm sorry." McGee gushed, fumbling for words.

"McGee. Don't apologize." Gibbs reminded the agent firmly, a ghost of a smile touching his lips.

"I know! I'm sor- Yes Gibbs." Timothy confirmed before nervously adjusting the strap of his duffle bag on his shoulder. Gibbs raked his eyes over the rest of his now silent team before turning forwards and continuing to watching, leaving behind some very silent and very confused agents.

"You guys coming?" Jethro called over his shoulder from the wide sliding doors at the front of the airport. As soon as all of them were outside, a black SUV pulled up in front of the group. A young man in a black police uniform rolled down the window.

"You're the NCIS team from D.C. right?" he asked, his voice nervous.

"We are." Gibbs replied his voice completely flat.

"Then I'm here to pick you up." The man replied, turning to the side to unlock the SUV's doors. All the agents handed their bags to McGee who rolled his eyes before loading them into the back and taking the last empty seat next to Ducky. Abby, Tony and Ziva sat together in the back, arguing playfully with each other and Gibbs sat like a statue in the front seat next to the petrified police officer. The other agents couldn't help but smile as Gibbs typical behavior set the man on edge.

The rest of the ride to the station was silent and slightly uncomfortable. The team was used to talking loudly on their car rides places but the atmosphere in the car was thick and they thought it better to not say anything. It was however; graciously short and soon all of them were once again standing in front of another building.

The awkward officer led the group of six into the light colored building, up a set of stairs and down a short hall, desks spread out across the room and agents stood around and sat hunched over keyboards. Many of the occupants stopped and stared at they made their way to a crowded office, and whispers passed between them.

"Oh Gibbs! I wanna be back at my lab…" Abby moaned as the officer opened the office door and motioned them inside. Nine other people sat around the room, watching with interest as the NCIS agents entered.

"Agent Gibbs." A stern looking woman with short blonde hair said as she stood. The two shook hands briefly before Gibbs stepped back in front of his well organized team.

"Karen Vick?" Jethro asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"Indeed. This is my team, Carlton Lassiter, Juliet O'Hara, Shawn Spencer and Burton Guster." She introduced.

"And I am FBI agent Peter Burke." Peter added, sticking out his hand to shake Gibbs. The NCIS agent only stared for a moment, before finally taking the man's hand.

"This is Neal Caffery, Diana Berrigan, and Clinton Jones." Agent Burke added, gesturing to his coworkers respectively.

"Leroy Jethro Gibbs." The team leader replied.

"Doctor Donald Mallard." The elderly M.E. interjected.

"Ziva David."

"Anthony Dinozzo"

"Abby Scuito"

"Timothy McGee."

"Well, now that everyone is here we can get started." Chief Vick started, settling back in her chair.

xxXXxx

A/N: Ok I honestly feel really bad about taking so long to update this. I keep on meaning to and it always felt like something was missing. I'm working on planning all my stories out completely instead of just making it up as I go along. I must say it takes a lot more time. My major thing is to try and keep all of my characters in character and as close to the shows as possible. I was really looking forward to writing their meetings actually and then I got there and I was like 'why was I so excited?' anyway, I hope it turned out well. I've been working on a few other stories both fanfiction and fiction and so my time is being torn between them all. Oh and I have a life so that doesn't help either. Geeze… the things I deal with. I'll get better and set dates for myself. Hopefully next chapter will be a bit more eventful as we get to the case luv ya all. Read review, you know the drill.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N- Sweet zombie jesus i am soooooo incredibly sorry for how long this chapter took. I never imagined I would do this to you guys... I don't really have an excuse that would make this okay so i apologize... however! Important things! I will NOT be abandoning this story. EVER. nope. Not happening. Also! I just got a new laptop since my other one died. Completely. a long time ago... Anyway, I got a notebook but unfortunatly I don't have a legit word program yet... as in I only have the starter... so that means no spell check... yup. So I apologize for any gramar or spelling. i'll go through and edit once i have the full version but i figure i've taken long enough to update as it is. As my new years resolution i vow to update this more often. No more six month breaks... ugh! SORRY!... anyway expect more chapters and thanks for reading!

SUPER special thanks to these awsome people who helped and got me off my lazy ass and got me to write this.

The splendid-StarKiss666. You awsome person i plan to put some special goodies for you in the rest of this story... and i just realize i never ever pmed u back after all this time...i super owe u... Also! The fantastic- Codecrash... u crazy kid, hoping you're not gunna kill me. AND The epic- randomchick51.

Sorry for the not-super-developed storyline but i felt sooo bad i needed to post something... more danger and all that coming up.

Disclaimer- Don't anything from NCIS, White Collar or Psych... such a pity

xxXxx

The explanation of the case was long and boring and Shawn couldn't help but fiddle with everything within arms reach. A few other of the rooms occupants seemed to agree. Tony received several slaps on the back of the head from the grey haired man and the FBI agent sent several glares Neal Cafferys way. Most of the others were listening intently; even Gus was leaning forward in his seat as if it would enable him to hear the chief better.

"So now that we're all on the same page, what is our plan?" Chief Vick asked with authority, leaning back in her chair and folding her hands.

"Let Neal look at the painting and authenticate them and then we can start to look for any similar painting that are being fenced." Peter Burke offered, earning an approving nod from Karen.

"Take Mr. Spencer with you, he may be able to help out if he senses anything" Karen offered.

"Tony, go with them. If anything comes up, let us know. Me and my team will head out to the crime scene." Gibbs explained calmly.

"Ok then, Carlton, I want you to take Mr. Gibbs and the rest of his team to the docks so they can take a look. Are we clear?" Karen asked, scanning the room as she stood, as if to finalize her orders.

"Diana, go with them. And Jones, talk to any informants in the area that may know anything about this." Peter organized, adressing his team as the others stood to go their seprate ways.

"Lets go Gus! To evidence!" shawn exclaimed, causing Tony to share a look with McGee. With a smirk He pulled on his NCIS cap and grabbed a small black case holding a camera.

"Have fun at the docks Zee-va. Take lots pictures" he said jokingly to his partner before turning to Peter and Neal.

Ziva smirked and said "If i find any attractive women at the dock i shall be sure to let you know Tony" before pushing past him and out the door behind Gibbs and the others. Abby remained sitting in Vick's office, watching the others prepare to leave.

"What do I do Gibbs?" the goth asked, dropping her hands into her lap.

"Wait here Abbs, when we find something we'll come to you and you can use their forensic lab" Gibbs explained, a hand on her shoulder. "But stay here for now."

Abby stuck her lips out in a pout but jumped up to give the silver haired man a hug. "Ok. Bye guys! Good luck." she said cheerily before sitting back down.

Gibbs smiled, ruffling the girls hair, and led his party out of the department, his stride long and confident. Detective Lassiter looked at his female partner before following the intimidating man to the parking lot outside. The man seemed rugged but his agents clearly respected, and admired him. Carlton wanted to be looked up to, to be an example for rookies, and seen as an accomplished Detective. He was a good officer and he knew it, but he still had a lot to learn and just maybe this man could help him.

xxXxx

As Shawn and Gus snuck off to the evidence locker like excited five-year-olds, Peter, Tony and Neal followed slowly after. Neal walked a step ahead of the officers, cautious of the dusy haired NCIS agent. He was still on edge, no matter how laid back the man seemed he could easily disguise his personality as many other agents were able to do.

"So you're a federal agent?" Peter asked the younger man who was adjusting the cap on his head.

"Huh? Yeah. Used to be a baltimore cop." Tony replied a grin. "You're FBI?"

"Yeah. White collar. New york."

"Sweet. is it ever like 'Weekend at Bernies'? " Tony asked jokingly.

Peter laughed, and ahead of them Neal smiled, feeling his tension subside. Neither man was above a casual movie refrence, something Neal did on more than one occasion.

"Not that i've dealt with" Peter replied.

When the three men slipped into the evidence room they wove through the shelves, following the sound of voices to where Shawn and Gus were standing in from of the tagged paintings. There were at least two dozen peices of art stacked and boxed on the far side of the room, extravagant things full of bright colors and numbing patterns.

"Of course these are them Gus! Don't be such a doubtful Debbie." Shawn scoffed from his crouched position in front of the paintings.

"Neal?" Peter invited, gesturing to the pieces of art. The graceful con man stepped forward and knelt beside Shawn, crystal eyes taking in every detail of the seemingly flawless painting. He spent what seemed like an eternity studying the first peice before moving onto the next one and then slowly, another. Shawn had long since abandoned his post next to the conman and had begun a wild conversation with Tony about movie classics. The two talked on and on about their favorites and what movies they deemed 'must sees for everyone'. Gus rolled his eyes at the pair and stood awkwardly beside Peter who felt no need to engage the younger man. The dark skinned man felt uncomfortably out of place in a room full of egmatic, confident men, full of sarcasm and charm. He didn't have self esteem issues but he wouldn't deny that he felt slightly overwhelmed.

Peter Burke, off in his own mind, wanted the case to come to end. The sooner that the three agencies could get this bizzare case wrapped up the better. He had never heard of three agencies from opposite sides of the country coming together to solve such an odd case.

"No way! That is the best movie ever! I always try to get McGeek and Zee-va to watch it!" Tony exclaimed loudly, throwing his hands up in the air and drawing Peter and Gus's attention.

"That movie is a classic man! 'I'm gunna make him an offer he can't refuse'" Shawn quoted, his voice deepening comically. Tony grinned and clapped the shorter man on the back.

"Finally! Someone who appreciates the classics!"

Shawn laughed pleasantly with the NCIS agent, pleasantly surprised at the mans personality. He was beginning to worry that all male law enforcement was as uptight as Lassie. Clearly he was mistaken as he and DiNozzo spouted out their favorite movies and old shows that they constantly found themselves quoting, much to the chagrin of their coworkers.

A few yards away, Neal stood silently, drawing the attention of all the others in the room who watched him carefully.

He met each of their gazes, eyes wide and touched with concern. "These painting are forgeries...and I know who made these."

xxXxx

"Ziva? What's wrong?" Timothy McGee asked, pausing to look at the Israele agent, camera held poised in his hands.

"I feel like i may have seen that man before..." she said thoughtfully.

"Who?" Tim asked, face scrunched in confusion.

"Caffery... I think I have seen him elsewhere."

"The criminal Neal Caffery Ziva?"

"Yes... I think I saw him with another man while I was on a mission... I cannot be sure."

"Am I interuppting something?" a sharp voice from behind the pair snapped and they turned to see Gibbs looking at them expectantly.

"Um... no... sorry boss..." McGee stuttered, turning back around to continue snapping pictures of the crime scene.

"Sorry Gibbs." Ziva apologized, turning back to continue her own task. Gibbs slapped both agents on the back of the head then swept away to speak with Detective Lassiter. Both winced and grimaced, focusing on their pictures to avoid another signature head slap.

"Ah, Agent Gibbs. This is our dead man." Lassiter said as he stood over the corpse that still lay on the dock. The SBPD had been unable to remove the body until the Federal agents arrived and were able to take their own inspection of the untampered crime scene.

"Really?" Gibbs quipped sarcastically, earning an astonished look from Carlton. "Anything else you know detective?"

Lassiter was flustered to say the least. He had thought the older, clearly respected agent to be a mature, thoughtful man but the tone in his voice was scathingly sarcastic.

"Well?" Gibbs pressed, taking a sip from the coffee cup clutched in his hand.

"There's not much we know at this point. Other than the man was shot with an automated pistol through the head, and died at aproximatley 1:30 p.m. last night." the detective explained carefully.

Gibbs made a noise at the back of his throat, his gaze skimming the crime scene. Dr. Ducky Mallard crouched next to the unfortunate corpse, muttering to the body as he checked it for any further medical clues to thier case.

"You're coffee detective" a voice said and Gibbs turned to see a familiar, bumbling agent handing the snobbish man, Carlton, his coffee. "Two creams, two sugars"

Lassieter nodded and looked at Gibbs only to see the older man watching him with a raised eyebrow. The younger officer shuffled off awkwardly, sensing the tension between the two men.

"What?" he asked.

Gibbs merely shrugged, a smirk on his lips as he took another sip of his coffee and strode off to talk to his team.

"Duck. Find anything?" Gibbs asked his British M.E.

"Other than the bullet through this poor mans forehead Gibbs, there are minor abrasions on his wrists. Possibly from being restrained for a short amount of time. They appear to be rather old and occurred long before his death," the man replied.

"Anything else?"

"Nothing. When we take him back to the morgue i shall be able to get a closer look but for the moment it appears to have only been the gunshot that killed this poor lad."

Gibbs nodded slowly, "Thanks Duck."

As he walked away, a thought lingered in the back of the former marines mind. Who had dragged two federal agencies from across nation to solve what should have been a simple murder? Something was hiding in the dark, and their case was going to be a lot more difficult than any of them had imagined.

xxXxx

Hope this chapter didn't disappoint. Pm me with any questions, concerns, anything of the like. Good reviews are good :)


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